y moving our dear Don Mike to save you
from the plague of repairing it for many months to come?"

Brother Anthony, whose sense of humor, had he ever possessed one, had
long since been ruined in his battles with Father Dominic's automobile,
raised a dour face.

"Speaking of Don Miguel, I am informed that our young Don Miguel has
gone to Baja California, there to race Panchito publicly for a purse of
ten thousand dollars gold. I would, Father Dominic, that I might see
that race."

Father Dominic laid his hand on poor Brother Anthony's shoulder.
"Because you have suffered for righteousness' sake, Brother Anthony,
your wish shall be granted. Tomorrow you shall drive Pablo and
Carolina and me to Tia Juana in Baja California to see Panchito race on
the afternoon of Thanksgiving Day. We will attend mass in San Diego in
the morning and pray for victory for him and his glorious young master."

Big tears stood in Brother Anthony's eyes. At last! At last! Poor
Brother Anthony was a human being, albeit his reason tottered on its
throne at certain times of the moon. He did love race-horses and
horse-races, and for a quarter of a century he had been trying to
forget them in the peace and quiet of the garden of the Mission de la
Madre Dolorosa.

"Our Don Mike has made this possible?" he quavered. Father Dominic
nodded.

"God will pay him," murmured Brother Anthony, and hastened away to the
chapel to remind the Almighty of the debt.

Against the journey to Baja California, Carolina had baked a tremendous
pot of brown beans and fried a hundred tortillas. Pablo had added some
twenty pounds of jerked meat and chilli peppers, a tarpaulin Don Mike
had formerly used when camping, and a roll of bedding; and when Brother
Anthony called for them at daylight the following morning, both were up
and arrayed in their Sunday clothes and gayest colors. In an empty
tobacco sack, worn like an amulet around her fat neck and resting on
her bosom, Carolina carried some twenty-eight dollars earned as a
laundress to Kay and her mother; while in the pocket of Pablo's new
corduroy breeches reposed the two hundred-dollar bills; given him by
the altogether inexplicable Senor Parker. Knowing Brother Anthony to
be absolutely penniless (for he had taken the vow of poverty) Pablo
suffered keenly in the realization that Panchito, the pride of El
Palomar, was to run in the greatest horse race known to man, with not a
centavo of Brother Anthony's m